Rescue Me, Peter
by dancingdragon3
Summary: Part two of the Rescue Me Series. Set in AU season 3. In the first part, Sylar rescued Peter from Homeland Security. In this part, they decide to team up and go in search of Luke. Petlar.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Peter

Characters: Sylar, Peter, Luke and Mary Campbell, Rebel

Genre: AU, action, slash, romance, hurt/comfort

Rating: T for violence, swearing

Summary: Part two of the Rescue Me series. Sylar has saved Peter from Danko's men. Together, they go after Luke.

Disclaimer: The show Heroes and it's characters are the property of NBC. No rights infringement intended. The song _Hero_ belongs to Chad Kroeger.

A/N: Peter does not know that Sylar is working with Rebel. Sylar has all his season 1 powers. In this AU, he also took Meredith's fire power before locking her up with Noah in _Dual_.

Sylar also has a power that he is only beginning to consciously realize. An ability that allows him to bring other people into his dreams. It is my interpretation of what happened in the episode _Eris Quod Sum_ with Angela, and will be explained in detail in her part.

This part begins with a dream sequence of Peter's. Thoughts are in italics. Flashbacks are in italics and parenthesis. Musical lyrics are in italics with quotation marks. Beta by adahleida.

* * *

><p>Do you ever get the feeling you were meant to do something extraordinary?<p>

These powers, uncontrolled, unrestricted, I see only danger in that

Do you believe a man can fly?

People like me, we're different so we're scary

They'll know just how dangerous you are

It's code

But you wouldn't know anything about that

I coveted what you had

You're the good brother

It turned me into a monster

They're gonna come for us

The passionate one

Segregation, internment camps?

He scares the hell out of me

It's not what I woulda done

Because you're my brother Nathan

Tell me you're with me and I'll leave

How could you be my son?

Give your big brother a hug

Why'd you save me? Why'd you do it?

Come give your father a hug

What they're doing to us isn't justice

You think you're innocent?

I am better. It's not a belief it's a fact

I want them to pay

Our lives as we knew them are over

It's not ever gonna stop

We bring the fight to them

We do what it takes to survive, things we can't even imagine

It's just a scratch

They're gonna come for us

I'm the only one who can fix it

We have to find a way to defend ourselves

I'm the only one who cares whether you're alive or not, Pete

I'm done believing in you

When that day comes we have to be ready

I know you'll take care of me

This is just the beginning

Because you love me

It's not ever gonna stop

With everything we've got

Bye Nathan

* * *

><p>When Peter woke up he actually felt rested for a change. <em>It must be well past noon<em>, he thought, noticing the sun shining brightly through the window's threadbare curtains. He hadn't gotten to sleep for so long in weeks. And certainly not so safely. He could feel Gabriel's back against his, warm and solid. He closed his eyes and allowed his thoughts to drift back to his dream - recurring nightmare, whatever. Interesting that there had been no Sylar in it this time. He was usually a prominent figure in Peter's dreams lately. Especially that version from the future.

Peter sighed and gently snuggled back against the larger man. Gabriel shifted and murmured but did not wake up. The trust the action displayed made Peter smile and marvel at the change occurring between them. As his introspection continued, he realized that besides exhaustion, the overwhelming melancholy he usually woke up with was absent as well. Never would he have thought that this madman's presence could be so soothing, so reassuring.

_I'm beginning to see what they mean by it is better to be at the devil's right hand than in his path. But what does that make me? _

(_We have to do what it takes to survive, things we can't even imagine._) He had said it, and he had meant it. But he doubted that Hiro, Ando, Matt and Mohinder thought he meant something like this. Literally sleeping with the enemy, their own boogyman.

_What are they gonna think? Scratch that._

Peter knew exactly what they would think. That he'd lost his mind. Cracked under the pressure. Or maybe that Sylar was controlling him. (_I did not want you to die._) Using him. (_I don't want to be alone._) Taking advantage of him with those dark desperate eyes.

_Dammit!_

Peter was really trying to ignore not only his tendencies, that for some reason were clamoring for attention lately, but his morning erection as well, which under the circumstances was just ridiculously inappropriate.

_I wonder if I could shower before he wakes up..._

Peter's self-exploration and clandestine masturbatory plans were interrupted by Sylar moving restlessly in his sleep, mumbling, then giving a short shout. Peter's debate on whether or not to wake him ended when a bolt of electricity flew by dangerously close to his face, singeing the already dodgy curtains. He touched the other man's shoulder.

"Sylar wake up. Hey, Sylar, man you're dreaming, wake up."

"Huh, what, Luke?"

"Uh, nooo, Peter here, wondering if I should be insulted, or maybe creeped out since didn't you say Luke was a teenager?"

Sylar squinted murder and mayhem in Peter's direction.

"He is seventeen. And Peter, for the record, I may be a cold-blooded killer, and Catholic, sort of, but I am not now, nor will I ever be a member of NAMBLA. Even I have lines." Sylar moved to lean against the headboard and scrubbed his face with his hands.

"Sorry. I usually try not to insult my bed mates so early in the relationship."

Sylar rolled his eyes, "Usually?" He snorted. "Whatever, listen. Luke, I was dreaming about him. He was in trouble. It was like I was here in this room, but he was in a cell somewhere else, but right here talking to me, asking for my help."

"And you think it might be real, right? Like a prophetic dream?" _Like my mom's?_

"No, something else. When I was in Level Five, the time you put me there, and you were being held by Arthur, and Angela was in a coma, she came to me. Angela did, in my sleep. She was just standing there in my cell, by my... _slab_, and we were talking, like normal. She was telling me to get up and rescue you. But she said that I was the one who brought her there. That the drugs weren't suppressing my powers all the way, that I was using them, and that I could wake myself up and escape. She said..."

"What did she say?"

"She said that I was far more powerful than I realized. That I didn't know half of what I was capable of."

Peter absorbed this for a moment. He thought back to one of his earliest powers.

"I knew a man, Charles Deveaux, that could enter other people's dreams, maybe even use them to communicate through space _and_ time. Is it possible you could have powers that you don't know about? Did you have some kind of drunken killing spree and forget what you took?"

"Not likely." He jumped out of the bed, yanking down his pajamas to reveal that yes, they had on matching underwear. "I would never kill under the influence, even if I could get drunk."

Peter watched as Sylar pulled on his jeans. "So, we going after Luke then?"

"We?" Sylar spun around. His chin lowered and he looked up from beneath heavy brows to fix Peter with a stare that demanded an immediate and completely truthful answer.

_Oh, yeah, that part was only in my head,_ Peter thought. _And do I really need to watch him zip up his jeans?_ He lowered his eyes and ran his hands through his hair. _Come on, focus, Pete. Time to lay the cards on the table._ He stood up to face the other man, trying to ignore the fact that he was still only wearing his underwear.

"I think the only chance any of us has is if we band together. Hiding alone isn't working. It's just giving them a chance to pick us off one by one. We're stronger if we stick together, as a group, a team," he said.

"Forming a group means creating an awfully big and tempting target. It'll mean fighting back, as a group. As an army. Are you really prepared for that Peter? Are you really ready to lead an army against your own brother, and the United States military?" Sylar leaned back against a chair and looked at Peter skeptically.

"I'm the one that has to, right? Isn't he my responsibility? Contrary to popular belief, I am not, in actuality, stupid or blind to how the world works." Peter retrieved his pants from the bathroom, putting them on with angry motions.

"It doesn't matter that I never wanted this, or that a part of me still loves him. He will always be my brother. But he chose to be my enemy. _Our_ enemy. He chose to be Arthur's son. I will do what I have to do. I'll do what I think is right. And if that means going head to head, well, I've already done that once, and I'll do it again. If that means with an army and in front the entire fucking world then so be it." Peter moved closer, meeting the other man's eyes squarely. "And if you're there to lead that army with me, then I don't see how we can fail."

Anger marred Sylar's face as he closed the gap between them, wrapping his hand around the slighter man's throat. "And why, in this world, would you want to team up with a monster like me?"

Peter raised his chin, pushing his throat defiantly into the hold. Ignoring the twinges of arousal and déjà vu brought on by Gabriel's strong grip, Peter met his gaze without an ounce of fear.

"Because I need you. WE need you. You're the strongest one of us. The smartest. The most resourceful." As the grip tightened Peter understood that the other man needed to hear a harsher truth.

"You're the deadliest of us Sylar," he whispered. "Of our collective, you are the weapon. The hunter. But that doesn't have to be a bad thing. It's just life. Nature. Evolution." The choke hold loosened. "You are what you are, and that's all any of us can ever hope to be. To use our gifts, to do what we are able to."

Peter took advantage of Sylar's slackened grip to knock his arm completely out of the way and move even closer, raising his own hands to grasp the taller man's arms. Wanting, needing him to understand.

"But, and I cannot stress this enough, it's not because you're a killer that I want you by my side, not just because of that. It's because I can trust you. I do trust you. I know you better than you think I do. Better than you know yourself, and you are _not_ a monster. I've seen you in the past and the future, and I've seen you in the now, and I know the man you can be. The man that you _are_. I know that you are MUCH more than just some cold-blooded murderer. And I KNOW that my mother was right when she said you have no _idea_ what you can become."

Sylar refused to appear moved by Peter's impassioned speech. He took a step back out of the younger man's hold and crossed his arms in front of him. "And why would I want to partner up with you?" he asked in a low voice. "Why would I want to risk myself saving others who would happily kill me if given the chance?"

"I can't answer that. Only you can. And I'm looking forward to when you tell me why. But right now the why doesn't really matter. I know that you want more for yourself, whatever the reason. I believed you when you told me that before. And I can see the change in you already, even if you don't. Come on Gabriel," the killer's eyes narrowed at the name change, but he didn't protest it.

"You and me, let's be honest," Peter continued, "we've already killed together. " _My father._ "We've died together." (_Save the cheerleader._) "You've already admitted you feel compelled to rescue me. You've proven that you're good at it." _And at saving me from myself._ "Give me the chance to return the favor. What do you say? Be my partner in all this craziness? Watch my back, and trust me to watch yours?"

"I'm not going to turn into some goody-two-shoes over night you know. Hopefully not ever. I may not be interested in hunting down other specials right now, but that does not mean I won't ever again. And I will admit I'm not sure what color hat I'm wearing these days, but some things about a person, you just can't change, Peter."

"I know. Believe me I know. All I'm asking for, right now, is that you fight with me, with us. If you tell me that I can trust you with my life, with the life of my family and my friends, then I'll believe you. I'll never doubt it."

Sylar stepped closer again until there was only a hair's breadth between them, their lips close, eyes searching, breath mingling. His voice was a whisper. "And what about you, Petrelli? You're family doesn't exactly have the best track record in the trust category. How do I know that you're not just going to use me to settle some childhood score with your big brother and then hang me out to dry the first chance you get?"

"I thought you had some kind of lie detector now?" Peter's voice was just as quiet.

"I do."

"And have I lied to you yet?"

"No... but then you haven't exactly been making many promises of your own intentions now have you, only what you want mine to be."

"Fair enough." Peter put some space between them as he collected his thoughts.

"Alright then Sylar - _Gabriel_, I promise you that I am not going to use you or deceive you. I have no intention of betraying your trust to or for anyone. I do intend to fight next to you and protect you if need be. Yes, I want your help, and every power at your disposal, but only if and when you're willing to give them. And when we meet up with the others, if anyone says I should sell you out, stab you in the back, then I'll tell them to fuck off, even my mother and Claire. And as far as Nathan goes, the only issues I have with him are new ones, ones I hope we'll put to rest together. Satisfied?"

Sylar let his gaze drift down over Peter's face wearing its usual defiant expression: eyes wide and alive, chin raised, lips pushed together in a mulish pout. _Beautiful._ Sylar raised one eyebrow, his own smile wicked.

"I will be when I get some coffee. Let's get outta here." He whirled away, moving to grab a shirt from his bag.

_That was in no way hot,_ Peter thought, shaking his head. "Hey don't we have time for showers?"

* * *

><p>Sylar and Peter, west of Harrisburg, PA<p>

"So where are we headed?" Peter asked once they were finally on the highway, Sylar driving their recently liberated Subaru station wagon.

"Newark."

"_Lovely._"

* * *

><p>"So what you're saying is that you don't trust him."<p>

"Peter, I'm pretty sure he was playing me. ME. Hell. No. I don't trust him. But, god help me, I feel responsible for the little shit, and it's very annoying."

"Well from what you've told me, he hasn't had much in the way of positive human interaction. Maybe being forced to depend on and fight for others and being around people that he has something in common with will do him some good. War can bring out the best in some people. Maybe he just needs to grow up."

"Well maybe we'll run across someone with the power to age a person."

"Gee, we can only hope."

"Look Peter, I think this is more serious than a case of teenage angst. I'm pretty sure Luke is sociopathic."

"Well, duh. Don't take this the wrong way, but aren't you a sociopath?"

"No, Mr. Social Graces, I don't think I am. I act like one, no doubt, but I've done my reading and by definition, a sociopath wants absolutely no social ties, other than for his own amusement. Feels no need for them. Has no feeling what so ever for any other life, human or not. And, I have to admit, that, even though for the last couple of years I've been very antisocial, and at times, a complete psychopath, I am not, by definition a sociopath. I never have been. I... I loved my mother. _All_ of them. I've felt... lots of emotions, lots of _needs_."

"Have you ever felt guilty?"

Sylar half smiled. "Yes Peter, I have felt guilt. After my first murder... I tried to hang myself. Did hang myself. The rope broke."

Peter didn't know what to say. They drove on in silence for a few minutes.

"Has Luke killed anyone yet?"

"Yes. I was there." The answer came after a long pause.

"How did he react?"

"Shocked. But he seemed to get over it quickly enough. It might not have been the first time though. He jokes about disabling pacemakers with his power."

"Jesus!"

"Yeah."

"Seriously, that is fucked up! He's only seventeen!"

"I _know_ Peter. Why the hell do you think I'm telling you this!"

"Okay, okay, settle down killer. Eyes on the road and hands at ten and two. I'm sure we can handle him."

"_What_ did you just call me?"

"Ummm, sorry?"

"Oh, it's okay. As far as pet names go, at least it's accurate and not overly fuzzy."

"I did not just pet name you."

"No really, it's cool. Pet name me all you want. Just as long as you remember that _I_ am not, in fact, _your_ pet."

Peter scowled in mild confusion. "Hey, I'm not _your_ pet either!"

Sylar smiled.

"I am not your pet, Gabriel."

"Of course you're not," he said soothingly.

"_And_, for the record, I'm not your sidekick either."

"_That's_ a relief," the antagonistic man was showing teeth now.

"God, you're annoying."

Sylar chuckled in response.

* * *

><p>"So, since we're being all open and everything, why don't you tell me what happened in the future where I gave you my power?"<p>

Peter wasn't surprised by the question, but he was reluctant to answer it.

"I guess now's as good a time as any. It was... what's the word? A dystopia. That I _should_ have taken as a warning of more than what I did. Nathan was president. Claire was his hired gun, and I was wanted for terrorism, which I guess I was guilty of. I, I mean future-me said that we needed to go to you. He didn't get to tell me why, or where you were though. After watching Claire shoot him dead, I escaped and went to Isaac's loft. Found Mohinder hiding out there, which is a whole other story I'm gonna skip right now. He didn't want to tell me where you were, but I read his mind. Costa Verde. Bennett's house." He paused to collect his thoughts.

"Are you going to make me drag this out of you?"

"No, I just want to tell it right. It was... important to me at the time, and I'm pretty sure it's gonna be... _something_ to you."

"Should I pull over?"

"Might not be a bad idea."

* * *

><p>"So let me get this <em>straight<em>. Heh. You mistook brotherly affection for a lover's caress?"

Peter let his flushed cheeks speak for him.

"You know I always thought there was something off about your family."

"Hey! We're just really... demonstrative, okay?"

"If you say so. So who was the little boy?"

Peter turned eyes now full of guilt and regret on Sylar, hoping the other man would realize something bad was coming. Something that he was very sorry for.

"He was your son. He died. They came looking for me, Claire, her team. We fought, and... he was killed in the crossfire."

Sylar's eye lids fluttered as he looked away, breathing heavily. "What was his name?"

"Noah."

"God, why would I..." Sylar broke off with a short, hysterical laugh. "Was he...how old was he?"

"Not... He was too old to be... to still be..." Peter just could not bear to say it, but the older man seemed to understand what he meant.

Sylar nodded, still looking away, seeing nothing. He reached out to lay his hand on Peter's. "It wasn't your fault. I know you're probably blaming yourself but you shouldn't." He took a deep, shaky breath. "You just shouldn't."

Peter turned his hand over to intertwine their fingers, tightening the grip. "Gabriel..."

"Don't. Just..." He stroked his thumb over the back of Peter's hand, laying his head back on the rest and closing his eyes. "Can we just sit here for awhile?"

Peter didn't respond. He relaxed back into his own seat and gave Gabriel's hand a squeeze. Nothing else was said for a long time.

* * *

><p>Sylar and Peter, I-78, Pennsylvania<p>

Peter shifted his eyes again to the man in the passenger seat. The man that had been staring at him steadily for the last hour.

"FYI, you're starting to freak out the driver. Why are you staring at me?"

"Sorry, I've been working on the problem in your brain."

"Oh, _okaaay_. Got an answer yet? Preferably one that _doesn't_ involve slicing off the top of my head and eating the goodies inside."

"Really Peter, don't you and Claire trade notes on me? And, yes, I do have a solution... but I don't think we should talk about it while you're driving."

"That bad?"

"Not at all. But I'd still feel better if you pulled over. It can wait."

"Obviously you don't know me very well. I've never been good with delayed gratification."

"And this is supposed to surprise me how?"

"Oh my god, you're so funny I forgot to laugh."

"Peter, has anyone ever told you that you still talk like a college student?"

_Oh, that's just perfect. First Claude and now him._ "Two words. 'Screw' and 'you'. Now shut up while I try to merge over. We need gas anyway."

* * *

><p>"I can fix you," Sylar said once they had parked and gotten gas and snacks.<p>

"What do you mean?" Peter asked, throwing his empty Doritos bag into the backseat. Sylar's eyes followed the bag's journey with distaste before answering.

"Your power. Holding one at a time. I can make you like you were before, so you can hold them all again."

Peter shifted uneasily.

"And there's the problem." He took a sip of his coffee and grimaced at the taste.

"What?"

"You. You are the problem. You don't trust yourself. It's like there is a wall in your mind, holding you back from keeping more than one power at a time. I could probably take down that wall without your help. But you are the one who put it up. Taking it down before you are ready could... _will_ probably cause complications. Nuclear explosion type complications."

"Great. So what do I do?"

"Figure out why you put the wall up. What does it stand for? Find the courage to take it down by yourself. And when you are ready, when you want your true power back, I can help you access it. And then I will let you copy all of mine. Make sure you can use them all as well as I can."

"That's a pretty generous offer Gabriel."

"Not really. It's in my best interest after all."

Peter smiled, a little doubtful that the motivation was completely selfish. His thoughts turned to the wall Gabriel had talked about.

"The easy answer is that you put the block up as a reaction to the last power you took, before you lost them all to your dad. My power, the hunger, and what it drove you to do. But I don't think it's that easy, is it Peter? This stems from before that. From before you even had powers. This is left over from growing up with Arthur."

Peter's expression soured. Always his father. Did killing him even make a fucking difference? It seemed so obvious now. Author's constant derision. The scorn. His father had never seemed to have any faith in him, never thought he could amount to anything. The truth Peter could see now was that he had been naive, but not about the world, about his family. All the time Peter had thought he was such a disappointment, a failure, when really his dad had been killing him, purposefully, slowly. Trying to destroy his spirit, his will, his power.

He had been born to be Arthur's downfall, and he hadn't seen it... but Arthur had. His father had to have known all along, what he would become, like himself, like Gabriel, like Samson. Except he and Gabriel were only like their fathers in that they shared the same power. Peter was a good man. Gabriel had been, and still, somewhere, was a good man too. But their fathers... knew only taking, no giving. And they had tried to take everything they could from their sons. It really was like some kind of Greek myth. Men with the powers of gods, trying to eat their sons before _they_ could be eaten. Peter sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"Look, I'm gonna need some time. I need to think about a lot of things. Okay?"

"Of course. I didn't expect..." Sylar laid a hand on Peter's shoulder.

"I just wanted you to be aware of what I think is going on. What I believe is still within your grasp. Remind you how powerful you are. You're supposed to be my foil in this life, Peter Petrelli. My balance. And you're falling down on the job."

Peter laughed. "Maybe you've forgotten that the last times we've fought, I've beat you down with my bare hands."

Sylar's look was intense with just a trace of humor. "No, Peter, I haven't forgotten."

"So what, you want me back to full strength so you can even the score?"

"Maybe."

He shook his head and laughed. "Sylar, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you've been missing our fights." Peter watched as the smile stretched across the other man's face.

Sylar leaned in closer, looking the younger man up and down. "What's not to miss?" he purred.

_Jesus. Is he flirting with me? _Peter thought in amazement.

Sylar smirked. "Come on, its time to switch."

Peter watched in mild confusion as he got out of the car. _Switch..? Switch what now? Was that flirting?_ Peter opened his door, pausing after he stood and considered the man walking towards him. _More importantly, do I want it to be?_ he wondered.

* * *

><p>Sylar and Peter, I-78, New Jersey<p>

"You know, there's one more thing we haven't talked about yet."

"And that would be?"

"Claire's mother."

* * *

><p>"Where did you get this?" Sylar asked, looking at the drawing of himself, screaming. In rage? Sorrow?<p>

"Matt drew it. Right after we escaped. Has it happened yet?"

"No. I don't think... Why do you have it? And since when does Parkman have Mendez' power?"

"That's a long and weird story, that actually has nothing to do with Isaac and... you know what. Long and weird, I'll tell you later. The important part is that after the plane crash we split up into three groups, Matt with Mohinder, Hiro and Ando. And me. Matt was compelled to draw these three future events, wrongs that needed to be fixed, prevented. We each picked one. I thought this was you, so I took it."

"But you didn't even know if I was still alive at that point."

Peter smiled, cutting his eyes to the side before resuming his watch for the Newark exit sign. "Of course I did."


	2. Chapter 2

Peter and Sylar, Newark, New Jersey

"This is my dad's house," Sylar said in a small voice to the young man standing beside him. It was early morning and the streets were still silent and damp. He shivered.

"I take it he's not home." Peter's voice was quiet too, taking in the innocent looking house of a madman. Of course with a sign like that out front... his eyes moved to Samson Gray's shingle. There was something about taxidermy that just screamed creepy and homicidal.

"He's probably still hiding in the woods."

Peter turned at the gravelly response. _Creepy and homicidal_, he thought again, looking at his own madman. Sylar turned to meet his gaze, raising his eyebrows at his stare. Peter shook his head and looked around suburbia.

"Can we just go get Luke now?" he asked. Sylar shrugged and headed down the block. They had passed only a couple of houses before he slowed, head cocked to the side.

"Well?" Peter asked after a minute's silence.

Sylar smirked. Peter had absolutely no patience. "I hear only one heartbeat. Mary Campbell, Luke's mom. Luke's nowhere around."

"So what do we do now?"

Sylar's face turned deadly serious as he resumed moving towards a nearby house. "There's only one thing I can think of," he said with a hint of anticipation.

Peter caught up and stepped in front of the taller man. "Woah there, killer. Why not let your partner in on the plan first, eh?"

"The plan is to torture Mrs. Campbell until she tells us where Luke is."

"Okay, see that's what I was afraid of. What happened to the new, kinder, _gentler_ Gabriel?"

"If I'm not mistaken, you also need mean and deadly Sylar too, right? To take out the bad guys?"

"Okay, yes. However, Luke's mom is not a bad guy, Sylar. She's just a regular woman. We don't have to hurt her. We could just ask her where he is."

"I hate to tell you this hero, but I don't think she's going to want to cooperate with me."

"Why..." Peter broke off as clarity struck. He scowled. "You didn't tell me everything that happened here before did you?"

"Hey! A girl's gotta have some secrets." Sylar said indignantly.

_What. The fuck?_ Peter thought. "You are so weird sometimes."

"You have no idea." Sylar waggled his eyebrows.

Peter closed his eyes in exhaustion. "You know what." He opened his eyes and raised his hands in defeat. "We have completely derailed here. Okay look, let's table for now your weirdness, and withholding important information from your partner. And believe me, we will be talking about that later, _Gabriel_. For now, let's just go question Mrs. Campbell. I will do the talking and you can lurk behind me and look menacing, deal?"

"Whatever you say, man." Sylar shrugged.

* * *

><p>It went as could only be expected. Mary resisted. Sylar lost patience, and she was in a TK hold before Peter could object, but whatever. It was expedient and Peter was feeling antsy.<p>

"I'm sorry, did you just say you turned your own son in for _**murder**_?" Peter asked. Despite his violent outburst, Sylar was still letting him do all the questioning.

"Well what else could I do?" The woman wailed, her large cow's eyes alternating between pleading and calculating.

"**Oh let's not even go there!**" Peter yelled into the woman's face as she sat, trapped in her chair. Peter stormed around the room. He couldn't believe this! With a mother like this, no wonder the kid was a sociopath. He turned back to his partner.

"We know what we need. He's at the police station. We can find out where that is from the laptop. Let's go." Peter started towards the front door.

"All right Peter. I'll meet you in the car." Sylar didn't take his eyes off Mary. Hers narrowed with hate and suspicion, causing him to smile.

"Sylar..."

"Peter..."

Peter walked back to the other man and put his hand on his out stretched arm, speaking quietly. "You can't kill everyone's parents, Gabriel. Luke might have a few things to say to her still."

"And you can't continue walking around this naive, Peter. What do you think she's going to do the second we leave here?"

_Dammit, he's right._ Peter thought through the problem quickly. "Look we don't have time for this. Just knock her out and we'll put her in the trunk. Let Luke decide what to do with her if we get to him in time."

"We don't have a trunk, Peter."

"Christ, Sylar! I'll get a fucking blanket to cover her with! Just knock her the fuck out and quit messing around, okay?"

Sylar smirked. "Okay," he replied in an innocent tone.

Peter gave him a stern look before going to find a bedroom. Just as he turned, a snare drum roll sounded and a song began playing.

"_I am so high I can hear ever. I am so high I can hear ever..._"

"Where is that coming from?" Sylar asked.

"Shhh. Wait a minute," Peter said urgently.

"_And they say that a hero could save us. I'm not gonna stand here to wait. I'll hold on to the wings of the eagles and watch as we all fly away..._"

_Oh it can't be_, Peter thought. "Where's your phone?" he asked, turning back to Mary.

"In my purse, over there."

"_Someone told me love would all save us..._"

"Is that your ringtone?" Sylar asked her incredulously.

Mary responded with an 'eat shit and die' look.

Peter got the phone and flipped it open, cutting off the soulful strains of Chad Kroeger.

"This is Rebel. Keep this phone. Hurry. They're coming," the text message read.

"It's for me." Peter held the phone up to the woman. "I gotta keep this. You," he pointed it at Sylar. "You knock out. Me blanket. We've got to move. Now!"

* * *

><p>They made it to and into the police station with no problem. The Sat Nav computer put the military some miles away still. Peter kept lookout in the main room, presiding over the unconscious bodies of the few officers on duty this early on a weekday, while Sylar went down the hallway that was lined with holding cells. He found the right door and TK'd it off its hinges, allowing it to settle on the floor nearby. The room beyond was very dark.<p>

"Luke?" he said hesitantly, setting his hand on fire and crossing the threshold. There was a body huddled in the corner. He saw a head come up.

"_Sylar?_"

Sylar knelt down as Luke crawled over to him. The boy's face was heavily bruised, his lips cracked and bleeding. Sylar extinguished his hand at the boy's flinch.

"Oh my god! Thank god! I knew you would rescue me. I _knew_ it." Luke threw his arms around his hero. "Please, Sylar. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I tried to use you. Please, don't leave me again. Please! I promise, no more lying. Please, _please_ take me with you."

"Shh shh. It's okay, Luke. It's okay." Sylar responded softly, trying to quiet the boy's heartbreaking ramblings. "I won't leave you again. I promise. I'm going to protect you from now on. Everything's going to be okay. Nobody's going to hurt you anymore." He hugged the boy tightly.

Peter approached the doorway intent on warning them that time was running out when he saw the embrace. _He learns quick_, he thought while watching Sylar hold the crying boy in his arms. It reminded Peter of Nathan, comforting him after a nightmare when he was young.

Sylar's eyes met his and they didn't need words. Peter could read every emotion on the other man's face. Helplessness. Guilt. Responsibility. Peter only hoped his own was as expressive. They exchanged a nod. A silent promise was made between the two men. Luke was theirs now. No matter what happened. They would protect him.

"We need to go," Peter whispered.

Sylar nodded again and pulled back to take Luke's face in his hands. "Luke, listen we need to leave now. Can you walk?"

"Yeah. As long as we're getting the fuck out of here, I'll make it."

Sylar smiled. "Alright then," he said, helping him to stand and joining Peter in the hallway.

"We'll head out the back. I'll take point. Luke, you stay between me and Peter and only engage if someone gets very close. Otherwise stay out of our way. Keep out of the line of fire. Understand?"

"Absolutely," the boy agreed emphatically, holding onto his bruised ribs. He nodded at Peter.

"Peter?" Sylar asked.

"Electricity," he said holding out his hand.

"The laptop and phone are off, right?" Sylar asked while transferring the requested power.

"Yep. But Sylar, you know there's not a back door?"

Sylar smiled at the other man. "Not a back door? Honestly Peter, you are so sweet." With that he headed down the hallway towards a solid wall.

"What's he going to do?" Luke whispered back at Peter.

"He's going to make a door," Peter answered. _And, I'm an idiot for not realizing it immediately._ "Now, stick close to Sylar's back and no more talking," he whispered, turning around and preparing to blast the first person he saw coming after them.

Sylar placed his hands on the wall, feeling the texture, the materials. He had been experimenting with using two powers together. He combined Zane's metal melting with Meredith's fire, and slowly began moving his hands from the floor, up and back down again until the semicircle started to quiver and melt. The entire section of the wall liquefied suddenly and collapsed to the floor in a puddle of steel and stone.

Sylar heard the blades of the helicopter before he could see it, squinting against the bright sun as he stepped through the wall. Getting a fix, he shot a large double-handed burst of electricity at it, frying its systems and sending it careening. He moved it telekinetically so that it would crash on the other side of the station, hopefully slowing down anybody coming after them.

Just as he thought they were going to make it without further incident he heard Peter shout, "Get down Luke!"

Hearing more electricity blasts and then gun fire, Sylar turned in time to see, seemingly in slow motion, Luke hitting the ground and Peter being shot several times, his face showing the pain of each bullet. His body was jerking with the repeated impacts as blood began pouring out the front of his jacket.

As Peter's body began falling to the pavement, time sped up again and Sylar leapt over both men, yelling at Luke to stay down. He landed between Peter and the officers, taking the rest of the already airborne bullets before letting loose a large stream of fire.

Watching the men who had shot Peter burn, he knelt and reached behind him trying to find Peter with his right hand. His left was busy throwing bolts of fire and electricity at the men still pouring through the back of the police station, and to the vehicles coming around either side of it. He felt a hand take his and Claire's power being copied.

Breathing a sigh of relief and without taking his eyes off the scene in front of him Sylar yelled out, "Luke! Do you see that orange building behind us?"

"Yes!"

"Get Peter. Drag him if you have to but run to it right now! Go!"

"Got him!"

Peter's hand withdrew and Sylar heard the younger men making their way behind him. The sound of bullets hitting the ground around their limping steps was music to his sensitive ears.

With both hands free it was no problem for Sylar to dispatch the police cars and the black vans bearing down on him.

Hearing the approach of more helicopters in the distance, he shot another stream of fire into the back of the station, before pulling back and telekinetically creating a shield around himself, a solid wall of fire to distract any remaining attackers. He needed a safe space and a few seconds of concentration to build up what Peter had called his final solution. Not as deadly in the long term as a nuclear bomb, it was, nevertheless, completely debilitating in the short term.

He closed his eyes and raised his face and arms in ecstasy, as the bubble of energy burst from his body, expanding pure, invisible destruction exponentially in all directions.

* * *

><p>Sylar made his way slowly and confidently across the parking lot listening to the burning of the police station behind him, the downed choppers miles away, and closer, the few pitiful moans of the burning wounded amid the backdrop of utter technological silence.<p>

His immediate focus was on the two men standing beside the Subaru station wagon behind the orange insurance building.

"Well?" Peter asked, leaning heavily against the car.

"Everything powered up and electrical within a thirty mile radius is permanently disabled." Sylar's voice oozed smugness.

"Except for us," Peter said, holding up the mobile phone and covering his wince with a smile.

"Except for us," Sylar agreed, holding up the car keys and jangling them. His smile faded as he gave Peter a thorough once over. His look turned concerned as he moved into Peter's space.

"I'm fine. But you can drive." Peter said reassuringly, cutting his eyes over to their new companion. "Um, Luke I almost forgot, we've got something for you in the not-a-trunk."

They opened the fifth door and pulled back a floral comforter to reveal Mary Campbell, trussed up in duct tape and looking furious. Sylar took Peter by the hand and moved them away to give the boy some privacy.

"Do we have time for this?" Peter asked as they slipped between some decorative miniature trees and another building.

"Plenty of time. Are you really okay?" Sylar's tone was belligerent as he unzipped Peter's jacket and pulled up his completely shredded shirt. Peter just smiled indulgently at the manhandling.

"I'm really okay. Perfectly healed." He tried not to squirm as Sylar grazed his fingers across his chest and stomach, pushing away blood to make sure it wasn't covering any wounds.

"You didn't seem fine a moment ago."

"It just took me a minute to heal all the way, that's all," Peter said, catching the wandering hand with one of his own. "I was pretty bad off. I think I ejected like twenty bullets."

"Oh, sorry. I didn't mean... Thank you for taking them, for saving Luke." Sylar said contritely, looking a little lost.

Peter smiled softly at his protector. He reached his free hand up. It hovered near the man's face before lighting on a broad shoulder instead. "Gabriel..."

"We can go." Luke interrupted, crashing loudly through the trees, stopping abruptly when he saw the pose the men were in, his eyes widening.

"What happened to your mom?" Peter asked as his hand fell away from Gabriel's shoulder.

"I sent her home." Luke said vaguely, as he watched Peter try to casually disengage Sylar's hand from his shirt so he could pull it down and zip what was left of his jacket back up. The boy gave the taller man a questioning look, which was returned with a frown before Sylar stomped off through the trees.

* * *

><p>"But I don't get what he did back there," Luke said to Peter as they followed Sylar back to the car.<p>

"Sylar let out an EMP," Peter explained, watching as Sylar's black wool coat flapped around his legs as he walked.

"Dude, what'd you guys have for breakfast?" Luke exclaimed, making an eww face.

"No, Luke," Peter tried to get out between chuckles. "I mean an electromagnetic pulse."

"I know dude, I was just joking." Luke said, bumping his shoulder against the other man's. "That is bad ass! He could bring down modern civilization with a power like that."

Peter cut him a worried glance.

"Which of course would be a very bad thing. I'm just saying... it's cool. And, by the way, I cannot tell you how grateful I am to you for taking all those bullets for me. Seriously, that was intense," he said, stopping and giving Peter a serious look.

"It's alright. I can heal, you can't. Simple equation." Peter stopped too.

"Yeah, but that's just it, you can't heal. Sylar had to give you that power. What if he hadn't gotten to you in time?" Luke's voice lowered to a whisper.

Peter's looked over to the man in question. "He always gets to me in time," he murmured, eyes lingering on the tall, dark figure. He shook his head and gave Luke a reassuring smile.

"Don't worry. He will always get to us in time, Luke. That's just his way." Peter squeezed Luke's shoulder and resumed walking towards the car and Sylar.

Luke nodded, appearing thoughtful, and let Peter go on ahead. His eyes dropped down to the most perfect ass he had ever seen. He smirked. _Yeah, Sylar's just a great guy like that._

* * *

><p>Getting to the outskirts of the city was a challenge, but from then on they drove steadily all day and into the night, taking and switching cars a few times until finally settling on a plum colored Lexus.<p>

Sylar joked that they should have a real trunk, big enough to hold at least three dead bodies.

Peter just thought the cruise control was nice, and the wide, heated leather seats. Plus in upstate New York, this car didn't exactly stand out.

Luke didn't give a shit. Well, except that this car had a really nice, roomy back seat.

Peter had exchanged text messages with Rebel as they drove, working out a system of codes and another time to make contact before ditching the phone. They'd get another one tomorrow. It was also decided they would stay as near to the city as possible, in case Angela needed help. Sylar insisted that they return to a heavily wooded area.

"I'm going to teach you how to fly." Sylar explained to Peter.

"How? And what do trees have to do with it?"

"Patience, young padawan. You'll see." Sylar's smug grin was back.

Peter rolled his eyes. "Not padawan. Try again," he said, looking out his window at the night sky.

"Grasshopper?"

"Absolutely not. I made Nathan call me that for years after we watched Kung Fu. Once."

"You know Peter, I wasn't nearly as picky with my nickname as you're being."

"Why do we have to have nicknames at _all_? We've already got Rebel's code names," Peter whined.

"But we have to have our _own_," Sylar whined back.

"Why? Where does this obsession with nicknames come from? It's beyond weird, even for you." Peter wondered if setting off that EMP had made his cohort high, or crazier than usual.

"Where does anyone get their obsessions from? That's not the point. We're partners Peter, and partners have nicknames. Like buddy cops. Noble outlaws! Fighting the good fight together. Amassing a rebel fleet to bring down the evil imperial forces." Sylar gestured animatedly back at Luke. The beginning of their rebel fleet, apparently. Or maybe an evil, imperial force. One could never tell these days.

"Just how many times have you seen Star Wars, anyway? And more importantly, have you ever heard the term 'fantasy prone personality disorder'?" Peter also worried about what else might be in Gabriel's rule book for relationships but he wasn't about to ask.

"At least my fantasies are inspired by books and movies written by adults, for adults. Not picture books."

"Books written by boring people you mean. And comic books are written for adults too."

"Boring! Are you kidding me? The Lord of the Rings is nothing _but_ action. I guarantee there is more creativity on one _page_ of any Tolkein novel than in every comic book ever produced put together."

"_One_ page? He needs three just to describe a meadow."

"Well Tolkein wasn't writing for people who have the attention span of a hummingbird."

"I swear if you call me hummingbird one. time. I am going to kick your ass so hard..."

Luke sat in the middle of the back seat listening to the men play-fight. Watching these two was better than any movie, TV show, or comic book he'd ever seen.

"Um, I like Dark Horse Comics," the teen volunteered.

"Really?" Peter turned around in his seat. "Have you ever heard of '9th Wonders'?"

"Ummm... I've seen it in the store. It looks kind of, uh, not really what I'm into," he said apologetically. Luke didn't think it would be cool to tell Peter he thought '9th Wonders' looked totally gay.

"Luke! Man! That comic is about us!" Peter said excitedly.

"What do you mean?"

"It's about us, Sylar, and me, and other people with abilities we know. It was written by this guy, this artist named Isaac Mendez. I knew him in New York."

It was funny how time and distance could make certain unpleasant memories seem almost unimportant. Like that Isaac had been a heroin addict. And had tried to kill Peter. And had shot and killed Peter's girlfriend, who had originally been the painter's girlfriend, and was maybe getting back together with him. Until he shot her, that is.

"I killed him," Sylar spoke up.

"Yes, thank you for your contribution to the conversation Gabriel," Peter said sarcastically, coming out of his reverie. "Let's keep working on that, shall we?"

"Hey! Isaac Mendez died with courage and grace, Peter. You've got to respect that. He accepted his fate, and my role in it. It was a very... satisfying moment for both of us." He noticed Peter's look of confusion and growing horror, and reviewed what he had just said.

"Wait! I don't mean satisfying, as in _satisfying_. I mean it was spiritually satisfying. Fulfilling. Fulfilling of _destiny_. Fate, karma... you know what I mean, Peter." Sylar gave up and looked over at Peter beseechingly.

"Yeah, uh huh, sure." Peter, now sitting completely sideways in his seat, propped his left arm on the head rest and looked his killer up and down suspiciously.

Sighing, Sylar glanced in the rearview mirror at Luke. His protégé's eyebrows were in his hairline, his expression gleeful disbelief.

Sylar turned his attention back to driving. He let his thoughts drift as he watched the headlamps and the hood of the car eat up the road in front of them.

"What I am trying to say," he started again after several silent minutes, "is that Isaac's gift was - is - much more than some simple parlor trick power like throwing fire or electricity."

"It's a connection to the universe. It's a connection to all that is. It reveals to you what could be, what will be, all the strands of probabilities. The outcomes from choices we make. Paths we choose to walk. The places to which our steps are taking us. And every path is already laid out, every outcome just waiting to be made reality. Every possible future already existing. The realization that everything that could be and will be, already is, somewhere... sometime... _everywhere_." Sylar's eyes widened briefly with emotion. He paused, breathing slowly, and brought it down a notch.

"Isaac's gift," he continued, "lets you take a step back, a step out, to see your place in the whole tapestry of existence. To see where your strand fits in. And getting to make the conscious choice of moving forward on a certain path, knowing where it is going to lead, helping destiny, taking an active role in it, it... it's like becoming one with the universe. It is the ultimate experience."

Sylar tapped his finger on the steering wheel after a long moment of silence.

"Just say it. Whatever it is, I know it's killing you," he sighed.

"Was that an excerpt from your book? What's it called again? 'Zen and the Art of Supernatural Serial Killing'?" Peter asked, smiling as Luke cracked up in the back seat.

"Peter, I am trying to teach Luke something important here, about the nature of our powers. He hasn't experienced everything we have the last few years. He needs to know these things are real."

"I know. I'm just kidding. That was... beautiful."

Sylar scowled.

"I mean it." Peter reached his right hand over and rubbed Gabriel's arm soothingly. "I'm sorry I made fun. That was a really profound explanation of Isaac's power. And you know I know what you mean. I know exactly what he means," Peter said, turning to the teen in the back seat again, absently moving his hand down to Sylar's leg to accommodate the shift.

The killer's hands tightened on the steering wheel as he sat up straighter.

"And he's right," Peter continued to Luke. "We need to get you caught up on a lot of stuff. If things work out the way I think they will, we'll soon be meeting up with a lot of people Gabriel and I know. Most of whom, well, he's tried to kill at one time or another. So, we should probably get... you caught up..." Peter's voice trailed off as he looked down, finally realizing that his hand was slowly stroking Gabriel's inner thigh.

Peter raised his head quickly, running into Gabriel's equally wide eyed gaze, just a few inches from his own. The younger man blushed, cleared his throat, and as nonchalantly as possible, removed his hand and scooted all the way back in his seat, re-buckling his seatbelt.

Sylar returned his still wide eyes to the road ahead, shifted his hips, rolled his shoulders, and cracked his neck twice.

Luke's eyes, filled with anticipation, moved back and forth between the two men in front of him. _This is going to be so much fun._

* * *

><p>"I don't have to sleep on the floor do I?" Luke asked once they had finally made it into the motel room. It had taken them forever to find a place that rented by the week.<p>

"Why would you have to do that?" Peter asked, looking up from the grocery bags he was unpacking in the kitchenette area.

"Well... three guys, two beds, and one teenager means I'm the odd man out, right?" he responded, trying to find the clothes they had bought for him in the bags he had carried in.

"Um, well..." Peter's eyes met Gabriel's across the room, who just raised an eyebrow in return. He was already lounging on the bed he had picked out by the front door, flipping through the TV channels with the sound turned down very low. He stopped on a news program describing a terrorist attack on Newark, New Jersey. Apparently the entire city was shut down.

Sylar smiled in satisfaction. His eyes narrowed as Danko appeared on the screen.

"You know Gabriel," Peter tried to sound casual. "Luke, being injured and all, just getting out of a jail cell, we should let him have a bed of his own, don't you think? We can be mature, share yours, right?"

Peter gave him what Sylar secretly called the Petrelli Puppy Dog Eyes of Doom. Angela knew how to work them too. The serial killer was still trying to find a power that would make him immune to them.

"Oh, _all right_, Peter," Sylar sighed, feigning unhappiness. "I guess, just for tonight though..."

Peter started coughing.

"I mean for tonight and as many nights as until he's all healed up, Luke can have his own bed..." Sylar trailed off uncertainly.

"Are you sure?" Luke asked. His eyes drifted from one to the other and back again.

"Sure we're... sure." Sylar and Peter finished in unison, before sharing a brief, nervous look.

"Okay, then. Thanks." Luke shrugged.

Sylar's attention went back to the news, and Peter turned back to the groceries.

* * *

><p>Luke opened his eyes to find himself standing in his motel room.<p>

He looked down and saw his body laying in front of him on the bed.

"Holy shit?" he yelled, stepping back and looking around wildly. "What the fuck's going on here?" he asked Sylar.

Sylar was looking down at himself and Peter getting the weirdest feeling that he had done this before. He slowly reached out a hand to Luke.

"Calm down. We're not dead or anything. I think we're dreaming... that I'm dreaming... well obviously we're both dreaming. What I mean is, I think I'm the one doing this. This is my dream."

"No shit, Sherlock! No, wait. _We've_ done this before." Luke said, gesturing between the two of them.

"A couple afternoons ago, after those fuckers kicked my ass, I passed out and dreamed about talking to you in a motel room. And I think Peter was there too."

Sylar snapped his fingers. "Peter woke me up from that. That's how I knew to come after you. I remembered talking to you too."

Sylar smiled, satisfied for only a moment. He looked again at himself and Peter, spooning on the bed. No, that wasn't it. There was something else he was forgetting, something important. His view was blocked momentarily as Luke walked to Peter's side of the bed, squatting down so that he was eye level with the man's face.

"So this is Peter Petrelli, huh? Man he is pretty."

"Luke..."

"Come on, those cheek bones? That hair? He's got what Judy Daluca's mom calls 'dreamy hair'. Hey, have you touched it yet?" he asked excitedly, head whipping around so his eyes could find Sylar's.

"Touched what?"

"His hair, jeez." Luke turned back around, resuming his examination of Peter. "You obviously haven't touched anything else yet," he mumbled. "Can I touch it?" he asked, already reaching a hand up.

"No! Luke come here. I'm not going to let you... molest Peter in his sleep."

"Can I watch you do it?" The teen waggled his eyebrows.

"Luke... do I even need to tell you what I will do to you, and exactly how much you will not. like. it. if I ever catch you molesting anyone in their sleep?" Sylar's voice was deadly serious.

"Alright, alright. No sleep molestation." Luke rolled his eyes dramatically and stood up. "I'll cross that off my list," he joked, moving to stand beside his mentor.

"See that you do," Sylar said, not taking for granted for a second that the boy was completely joking. He had read somewhere that clear boundaries were important when raising a teenager. He supposed that was doubly important with a boy like Luke. As was giving praise where it was due.

"Look don't think I don't appreciate you not letting onto Peter... you know... what we talked about before..."

~~~~~ [Flashback] ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Sylar, how do you feel about guys who think about other guys?" Luke asked as they drove through the night.

"I do not have sex with teenage boys Luke."

"Dude, no! That's not what I'm asking."

Sylar raised an eyebrow.

"Well okay, I'd have to be blind not to think about you. I mean come on, you're a gorgeous, super powered serial killer. And now your my knight in tarnished armor too. What's not to like? But you're not the first you know... I've had thoughts before. And I just wanted to know how you feel about stuff like that."

"You're asking me how I feel about homosexuality?"

"No! Hey! I'm not gay. Believe me, I like girls. I've had plenty of sex with plenty of girls. I've just also had thoughts about, you know, guys."

"I think having thoughts is fine Luke. I think being gay is fine too. And I think it's okay if you're still not sure what you want, or if you end up wanting both."

"So have you had thoughts?"

"Not about you Luke."

"Man, I know, but have you?"

Sylar remained silent, driving.

Luke's expression turned sly. "Who's Peter?" he asked, grabbing onto the door handle as the car swerved across the yellow lines and then almost into the ditch on their side of the road before straightening out again.

"Where did you hear that name?" Sylar asked through gritted teeth.

"You talk in your sleep."

~~~~~~~~ [End flashback] ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Whatever man, it's cool," Luke said. "Besides, I'm having way to much fun watching you guys stumble around each other."

"What do you mean?"

"You're kidding right? There's so much sexual tension here you could eat it! Hello, spooning, center stage." Luke gestured to the men on the bed in front of them. "You're constantly touching each other. And, you're making googly eyes."

"No, we are not!"

"Oh, you so are! And don't think for a second you were fooling anyone with that 'give Luke his own bed cause he's injured' crap. I thought Peter was going to have a heart attack when I brought up sleeping arrangements. You two slept in the same bed last night too, didn't you?"

"No. We were in the car all night trying to get to you in time to save your ass," Sylar said pointedly, hoping the kid would drop it.

"Uh huh, and the night before that?"

"It was for comfort. For Peter," Sylar admitted grudgingly.

"Comfort." Luke snorted. "I don't remember you giving me that kind of comfort."

"Peter is from a very different kind of family than yours, Luke. He's used to getting a lot of physical affection. Add to that the fact that its his own brother who is hunting us down, and Peter is understandably feeling... needy. I'm just trying to make this easier for him."

"Bull. Shit. You've been thinking about that man for a very long time. And he has so got the hots for you too. He can't keep his hands off you!"

"He is just lonely." Sylar insisted. "When I found him he had been on the run, alone for weeks. He is scared and used to having someone stronger than him around to depend on. I am not going to take advantage of that."

"You don't want to take advantage of that? Of him you mean?" Luke's voice rose in disbelief.

He took a breath and spoke slowly, as if to the brain dead. "You don't want to take advantage of him. Do you hear yourself, Sylar? You're talking about the guy like he's some drunk cheerleader passed out in your room. He's not you know. Like, at all."

Sylar was stubbornly silent.

"Jesus. You really like this guy. I mean, you don't just like him. You really like, _like_ him, like him."

Sylar cringed at what passed for sentence structure to a teenager.

_I have got to figure out how to wake myself up from these dreams. _

And just like that, Sylar opened his eyes to see... dreamy hair. He raised his head above Peter's to see Luke smirking at them from the other bed. He rolled his eyes at Sylar, gesturing to the arm he had tight around Peter's waist. Sylar just narrowed his at Luke and mouthed the words "go back to sleep". He laid back down and leaned forward to rebury his face in Peter's soft, sweet smelling hair. He pulled the blanket up around their shoulders.

_See_, he thought, putting a leg over his sleeping teddy bear, and cuddling as close as possible. _This is very comforting._


	3. Chapter 3

The next day saw Sylar getting up bright and early (reluctantly) to go find an area suitable for what he had planned. He was in luck. He found a clearing not too far from the motel, but farther away from it than the highway. It looked to be the back part of an apple orchard. Nice. But the area he selected was surrounded mostly by tall pine trees, with some oaks and maples.

Setting up the area, he could only find one large rock to use, so he brought in some logs too for the focusing exercise. He positioned them at different distances from the center of the space, until he was satisfied with the arrangement. He sat down in Peter's place to mentally go over his lesson plan.

Sylar had never tutored anyone on how to use their powers, but when he had been on Level Five he'd considered the idea. He had wanted to be valuable to his mother - to Angela. He had wanted to surprise her. Make her proud.

Sylar closed his eyes at the memory.

Even before Arthur had told him he could take someone's power without killing them, he had thought that he could at least figure out how one worked without taking it. He wouldn't have direct access to it, but he could tell its owner how to use it. The different ways it could be utilized.

Most people were so short-sighted, they never experimented with their abilities. Never pushed them to see how far they could go.

He used to believe that justified him taking them. Killing for them. They were gifts that he was putting to better use. Only he could fully appreciate them. Or so he told himself.

An image of his father came to him. He wondered if Samson had ever thought that. Or if he had ever even bothered to justify his actions. Sylar didn't think so. He doubted if either Mr. Gray or the senior Petrelli had ever once felt an ounce of guilt between them.

But he and Peter did. Enough for all of them it seemed.

Rousing himself from his dark thoughts, he went to wake up his tiny band of rebels.

* * *

><p>When Sylar got back to the room, Peter was in the shower and Luke was eating cereal and watching television.<p>

"He's been in there for _forever_," Luke complained around a mouthful of Cheerios.

Sylar quirked an eyebrow, but he heard nothing but innocent showering sounds. _Damn._ He went and pounded on the door. "Hurry it up Petrelli! You're not the only one living here." He smiled at hearing something drop and a muffled curse.

"Alright, alright! Jesus, don't break the door down," Peter yelled.

"Yeah, it's not like anybody out here'd like to see you all wet and naked," Luke said quietly, with a smile that said he was imagining just that.

"Luke..."

"Yeah, yeah. I know. He's all yours," Luke said innocently, batting his eyelashes.

Sylar's response was cut short as the bathroom door he was still standing beside swung open and a (naturally) half-naked Peter appeared in a cloud of steam. He stopped short at seeing the taller man.

"Hey." Peter seemed to reach for words. "You were up early this morning." He cringed.

Sylar smiled and gave him a once over. Another too-small towel graced his hips.

"Ah did you miss me, sweetie?" Sylar asked in a good approximation of Luke's innocent tone and expression.

Peter's lips thinned as he gave his partner a warning look. Truthfully, he had. Screams and the sounds of fighting thankfully drew both men's attention to the TV. "Luke, what the hell are you watching?" he asked.

"Uh, I'm watching three hot chicks with super powers, running around fighting in tight pants and skimpy tops. It's called a 'spank bank'. Look it up."

"Luke, get in the damn shower _now_," Sylar sputtered. "And _you_," he turned to his literally steaming hot partner. "Put some clothes on, for god's sake." He then stomped the three feet to the kitchenette.

"Aren't you glad I insisted we get the full sized coffee maker?" Luke asked Peter as he walked by. He took the opportunity to check out Peter's ass as the shorter man watched Sylar pour a large mug to the brim.

"How can he still be addicted to caffeine?" Peter was incredulous. He watched as Gabriel's eyes closed in obvious pleasure as he smelled the coffee. He took a large drink and rolled the liquid around in his mouth before swallowing. Peter blinked and shifted in place.

"Don't ask me," Luke said. "It's probably just a habit or something. All I know is that he's always got to have a cup of coffee or tea with him. Trust me. I know a few things about Sylar that you don't," he added cryptically, before shutting the door to the bathroom.

Peter turned and looked at the closed door bemusedly. He really didn't want to get into a pissing contest with a teenager over who had more intimate knowledge of a mass murderer. _Could my life get any more surreal?_ he wondered as he went to find some clothes.

_Hmmm vanilla_, Sylar thought as he took another sip. He was purposefully ignoring the conversation. He was too glad that they were getting along to complain about their choice of topic. _"Spank bank,"_ he scoffed to himself. _The mouth on that kid._ Sylar was trying to keep his attention on the television, his coffee, anything that was not Peter. The handsome man was getting dressed on the other side of the room. Peter's lean muscles stood out as he pulled a blue t-shirt over his head.

_Pectoralis major. Lattisimus dorsi. Abdominal oblique._ Sylar's eyes continued on their cataloguing journey south. Peter's choice in underwear? White cotton briefs that hugged every curve as the younger man bent to pick up a pair of jeans.

_Fuck._ Sylar closed his eyes, but it was no use. The image of Peter's body had been burned onto his retinas a long time ago._ Does he have any idea what he looks like?_ Sylar's focus snapped back to the TV. He was not going to think about what he had done in the shower that morning. Or what he had been thinking about. He took another sip of coffee.

It was going to be a very, long day.

* * *

><p>"Here we are," Sylar announced a little while later as he, Peter, and Luke walked into the clearing.<p>

Peter shook his head in amusement as he looked around. "Well, it's not a swamp, but this clearing is eerily reminiscent of something. " He glanced at his wannabe Jedi Master, smirking. "How do you do it?" He muttered, looking back to the objects lying around that he assumed he would be levitating soon.

"I have my ways." Sylar said low into Peter's ear, as he came up behind him. A shudder passed through the shorter man.

"Okay, so now what, oh great Jedi Master?" Peter asked, ignoring his goosebumps.

It was Sylar's turn to smirk. "You sit here." He positioned Peter in the middle of the clearing. "Oh, and take telekinesis." He reached out before Peter could sit down. They clasped hands and the familiar red light flickered.

"Thanks," Peter said, his hand and gaze lingering on the taller man's.

The corner of Sylar's mouth turned up as his fingers caressed Peter's palm good bye. He turned to Luke. "Luke you sit over there."

"Ah, man. I'm R2-D2, aren't I?" Luke whined, throwing himself to the ground.

"No, you're Luke Campbell. Now shut it." He went to sit in front of Peter. "Close your eyes." Peter merely raised his eyebrows as he settled down cross-legged.

"Trust me, Peter. Close your eyes. You have to learn to feel with this power. See with it, not with your eyes."

Peter nodded. "Yes, Master." Peter winked. "Teach me the ways of the Force." He closed his eyes.

"Mock all you want, but comparing telekinesis to the Force is going to help here. Star Wars gives us a valuable example to use. A common metaphoric language to draw from. Now pay attention."

"When you use telekinesis to move objects, what is it that is really moving these things? It's your mind. Reaching out to touch. Leaving your body. But TK is not just moving _with_ your mind. It's moving your mind, expanding it from your body to touch everything around you. When you master that ability, you can use your mind to move your body as well."

"Now try to reach out with the power in all directions. Forwards, behind you, above and below. Feel the ground beneath you and me right here. That's it." Sylar could feel tendrils of TK touching his body.

"Okay, now wrap the power around me and lift me gently just about a foot. Good, that's good. Not good. I'm falling over," Sylar said as his ass began to drift up.

"Try surrounding me in a TK bubble, so that you can feel where my body is in space. Perfect," Sylar said as he felt the pressure evenly on all sides.

"Now keep expanding outwards until you find the rock and the logs and lift them too. Great. That's great, Peter. Now Luke." He turned his head to watch Luke drift into the air level with him.

Luke shot him the bird. Sylar ignored this.

"Okay. Now, keeping all these things suspended, lift yourself. Feel the earth beneath you. Push against it. Let the power expand between you and the ground. Don't lift into the air, push into it..."

Sylar continued instructing Peter. Having him learn to hover. Practising control over himself as well as everything else until the random logs, rock, and teenage boy Sylar had collected were flying in slow orbits around them. Luke was not happy with this activity at all.

"Peter, you are doing really great. I'm impressed," Sylar remarked.

"Do I really need to be upside down for this?" Peter asked, tired of feeling all his blood rush to his head as he hovered several feet above the ground, upside down.

"Yes. You need to get a new perspective. Stop thinking of your mind as being focused in your head and stop thinking of your head as being where it usually is. Stop thinking of yourself as straight lines and be a circle. A sphere."

Peter sighed and closed his eyes again.

* * *

><p>They soon moved on to reaching out to the trees. Luke was nearby, sitting this fun out with a bottle of water.<p>

"Move your power around them, just like you did with me and Luke. Except you can't move the tree. So if you shorten the link, your body will have to move to it instead," Sylar explained.

The first time was hysterical from Luke's point from view. Peter used too much strength, went way too fast, and ended up smashing into a tree trunk before falling to the ground. It was like a cartoon, only way funnier. He even bounced a little.

"Are you okay?" Sylar asked, running up.

"Peachy," Peter replied, his face turned to the side, breath kicking up a small dust cloud.

"Come on, try again," Sylar said, hauling Peter up with his own hands, and giving his shoulders an encouraging squeeze.

The next time went a bit better. But it still ended up with Peter smashing into the tree. He just didn't fall this time.

"Well, you're still holding on. That's a good sign," Sylar said, hovering nearby. "Try to push yourself up the trunk. Don't use your hands. Kind of telekinetically crawl up it. Using mind feet."

"Mind feet? Are you fucking with me?"

"So, I'm not always good with metaphors. You get the idea." Sylar waved him on.

"Mind feet," Peter snorted as he followed the ridiculous instructions, making his way slowly upwards.

"Hey! I think I've got the hang of this at least," he said a few minutes later.

"You have. You're very good with this ability, Peter. Did you use it more than the others, before?"

"I always liked it," Peter responded hesitantly.

"Yeah, it's one of my favourites too." Neither voiced that their other favourite power was Elle's electricity.

"Now try for that tree over there. Slowly," Sylar said into the uncomfortable silence.

Peter flew to it successfully, alighting on a thick branch.

"Now me. Fly me to you," Sylar called out.

Peter over compensated again and slammed Gabriel into himself and them both into the tree. His head impacted hard and he blacked out for a moment.

When Peter came to, he assumed he was lying on the ground, but when he tried to move he realized that his legs and arms were tangled with others that must belong to Gabriel. But there was very little body weight against him. He opened his eyes to find Gabriel's very close, and level to his own.

"We're still in the trees," Peter said faintly.

"Yeah," Sylar responded almost as quietly.

"I thought we were on the ground."

"No." Sylar licked his lips. "I've got us."

Peter breathed. "That... that's good." He and Gabriel were pretty much cuddled up together against the side of a tree, a good twenty feet up.

"Yeah."

"Sorry," Peter said.

"For what?"

"You know. For crashing us into a tree."

"That's okay," Sylar said with a questioning look. "You did good. We just need to work on your control. You've already got plenty of power."

Peter wanted to say thank you, but he too busy trying to control a blush threatening him. He swallowed. He was also afraid that if he opened his mouth he'd say something completely off the wall, like tell the other man how hot he was. Which besides being kind of adolescent, there was still Luke to consider. They couldn't exactly make out with him watching.

_Oh god, how long have I been staring at his mouth?_ Peter risked a look up. Thankfully, it looked like Gabriel hadn't noticed. Because he was busy staring at Peter's mouth. _Staring_, at Peter's _mouth_. As he watched, Gabriel licked his lips again, absently, like he was also deep in thought. Peter resisted the urge to lick his own lips, choosing to bite his lower one instead.

_This is ridiculous_, Peter thought. _He's holding me and staring at me. We're staring at each other. We are having a moment. Hanging onto the side of a tree, granted. But surely if we both feel something... it shouldn't be too hard to... do something about it. We're both grown men. It's the twenty-first century. Men kiss each other all the time. Right? _

Sylar nodded slightly before asking, "Are you ready to try again?"

"Um, try?"

"To fly," Gabriel's eyes finally rose to meet his own. They looked amused, and maybe, a little aroused.

"Oh, sure." Peter's voice was still embarrassingly faint.

"Let's do it together this time," Sylar said gently, taking Peter's hand and moving to hover beside him.

"Okay..." Peter took a deep breath and tried to focus on the task at hand. For a second there, he had thought Gabriel had been shifting towards him, instead of away.

Peter glanced at the other man out of the corner of his eye as they moved away from the tree. _Seriously, is it just me, or do we hold hands a lot for two supposedly straight guys?_ he wondered.

Either way, in a few minutes they were flying briskly through the trees. And no longer holding hands.

"This is awesome!" Peter yelled to Sylar. They had separated, but Peter was managing to maneuver them both through the trees by himself. They hadn't crashed again. Unfortunately. They did a fly by over Luke and Peter grabbed him too.

"Hey be careful! I'm still injured!" Luke cried. Peter and Sylar just laughed as they flew a circuit around the edge of the clearing before weaving into the trees again.

* * *

><p>Later, they were taking a break in the room, eating salads, sandwiches, and in Luke's case, more cereal.<p>

"How is Charmed still on?" Peter asked. "And more importantly, why are we still watching it?"

"Because it's the only thing on that's not soap operas. Or a talk show." Luke answered without looking away from the television. "I mean look at those boobs."

Peter glanced to the TV with renewed interest while Sylar frowned at the teen.

"And hey... Sylar... Dude, that warlock looks a lot like you," Luke observed excitedly.

"He does _not_!" Sylar said.

"Oh, I don't know. He's definitely got the eyebrows. And maybe if you took all that gel out of your hair…" Peter trailed off, smirking.

"I do _not_ use hair gel."

"Oh please. What, do you have a power that keeps it slicked back like that?"

Sylar aborted a move to touch his hair, and straightened primly in his chair. "If there's anyone at this table that should not be making fun of people's hair, it's you, Petrelli."

_God, I am never going to live down those bangs_, Peter thought.

"You know the first time I saw Peter," Sylar said to Luke, "we were in this high school in Texas. I thought he was a _student_ there. This was three years ago, by the way. He had this long hair that hung in his face like... "

"Okay fine. You win." Peter grumbled. "Let's just drop the hair discussion, okay? What's the plan for the rest of the day?"

Sylar grinned. "I figure we should go find a new cell phone, and wait for Rebel to contact us. Get to bed early. If we're still here tomorrow we can work on Luke's power some. How's that sound?"

Peter looked over at Luke speculatively. "I wouldn't mind getting my hands on some microwaves," he said with an unfamiliar gleam in his eyes.

Luke frowned. "I think he meant to help me, with my power. Right?" Luke turned, looking nervously at Sylar.

"Yes, but that doesn't mean you can't share with the group, Luke." He and Peter shared disturbingly similar looks of gleefully dark anticipation.

"What have I gotten myself into?" Luke wondered aloud, before taking another bite of his Cheerios.


End file.
